The Whisperings of Shadows
by Dark Seeker Assassin
Summary: A strange event at the beginning of the year soon forces Harry to take action as he finds himself lost in a mystery not even the Order can solve. Set at start of fifth book.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (_although I wish I did, who wouldn't?)_ J K Rowling does, I just enjoy writing in my spare time.

A/N: Set at the beginning of the fifth book, so it's the summer before fifth year…will follow canon to an extent but I'll start to deviate from The Order of the Phoenix the further in I get, _can't have it all the same now can I? That would be beyond dull. _:D

**The Whisperings of the Shadows**

The sweltering heat bore into London, with news of higher temperatures tomorrow reaching travellers ears. The heat wave had been ongoing for near a week, and a water ban was now enforced in several areas, causing the prized gardens of the locals to wilt and die.

On the outskirts of London, namely an area called Little Winging, a boy called Harry Potter sat, knees on the hard crumbling soil, as he painted the garden fence. For him the summer consisted of chores, sent out regardless of the weather by his loving, caring relatives, the Dursleys, who for now, appeared to have set their hopes on him dying of heat stroke. Water was not a commodity they had bothered to offer him.

_Up, down, up down_…Harry stared at the rhythmic motion of the paintbrush in his hands unseeingly, the dull work far from holding his attention. It was the type of work he was used to, chores he'd completed so often that he preformed them seamlessly, mindlessly running through list after list set by his Aunt Petunia.

Lots of long and pointless work.

Not that it was worse than last year, for once again he was _supposedly _enjoying his holiday, away from the hustle and bustle of wizarding life, and their many stares. To be honest with himself, Harry wasn't sure what was worse. If it wasn't for the events of last year he would have been itching to return to wizarding life, but now with the war…

He didn't know what to think anymore, Voldemort was back, back from the dead…or… wherever he was, and the Ministry wasn't doing a thing. _The Daily Prophet,_ a wizarding newspaper he had delivered every morning, denied his resurrection adamantly, not to mention calling him a lying delusional brat.

The press hated him, last year was bad, but it was bordering on ludicrous now. No longer did they report on his apparent girlfriends, now they questioned his sanity, and if that wasn't enough, they were attacking his headmaster as well. Dumbledore had never seemed entirely…sane, but there was no denying his intelligence, the intelligence of the wizarding population however…

Judging by last year, people tended to take things at face value, no reading between the lines, no questioning of shoddy reporters. The wizarding world of Britain didn't have news…they had fifty odd pages of gossip, delivered once a day, everyday.

Harry was seriously considering dropping his subscription; there were other papers out there, ones which didn't drag his name through the dirt at the command of a corrupt ministry official, now he understood why the Ravenclaws favoured the _Wizarding International _or the _Dragons Journal. _He'd only read the occasional copy when he found one left discarded in the library, and from the general gist of everything written, they were the wizard equivalent of _The Herald, _not useless tabloids.

Still, he needed to check for mysterious deaths and happenings, and _The Daily Prophet_ would no doubt create a brilliant tale of treachery and betrayal in a lovers spat, for one unexplained death. So in theory he shouldn't miss any clues, any hints of Riddles activities…but there was nothing. Someone was controlling what was 'acceptable' to be printed now, but almost two months monitoring for anything suspicious was bound to turn up something…right?

Harry sighed, dumping the lid on the paint can and standing, brushing the dirt from his huge jeans. Taking the supplies back to the shed, not even bothering to clean the paintbrushes, Harry headed quickly inside Number 4, welcoming the cooler air the house provided.

He'd been _home _a week, one long dull week, with nothing to do but dwell on the war, and the graveyard…and Cedric's death. His room had become an oppressive prison cell, locked in every night, and no doubt all day, _well_, once they ran out of things for him to do. He _hated _it.

Pouring a glass of water and quickly downing it, before heading upstairs having successfully avoided his aunt, Harry set about changing out of paint stained…rags. The last thing he wanted was to be assigned another chore, and sitting in the heat working was worse than sitting doing nothing, so Harry hastily left for the park.

Maybe he should start listening to the muggle news, they reported everything, and anything odd was bound to hit the headlines. Or if he had money, buy a muggle newspaper…he didn't even have a pound coin to his name. Near fourteen years he'd spent in the muggle world, and the most money he'd possessed was fifty pence, and he'd given it to Ron back in first year at school.

The next time he visited Gringotts Harry promised himself to get some money converted, at least then he might be able to buy clothes that fit, and suntan lotion…the weather was terrible.

Fishing an old crumpled newspaper out a bin, Harry tucked it under his arm; at least it wasn't difficult to steal them. It was when he was heading towards the swings that Harry heard a tell tale stumbling sound behind him, turning rapidly to check the area…nothing. There was no one there _yet _again.

It wasn't a surprise, at least not anymore, for the past few days he'd had a feeling someone, _or something,_ was following him. A prickly feeling on the back of his neck…either that, or he was becoming seriously paranoid.

And the last thing he wanted to do was prove _The Daily Prophet_ right.

Shaking his head and perching on the only surviving swing left (no doubt the vandalism was the work of Dudley and his gang) Harry opened the newspaper. If he was being followed then there was little he could do, he couldn't use magic despite carrying his wand around continually, and he didn't fancy being expelled due to an overactive imagination. _And_ if he was being tailed they hadn't made any move to hurt him.

Not that that was a terribly encouraging fact, they could be waiting for an opportune moment or something…he really should write something about it in his letters. To Sirius of course, Ron and Hermione wouldn't be able to do anything, but his letters…they were…empty. Devoid of any useful information.

Padfoot was obviously up to something, and everyone seemed to be involved. _All_ his letters were empty, pointless information and hollow words of encouragement. Hell, Sirius just prattled on about how he should be a good little kid and keep his nose clean. And the last thing Harry wanted was for Sirius to come bounding over to Surrey at the smallest sign of trouble, as he did when Harry mentioned his scar last year…he wouldn't endanger Sirius for nothing. For all he knew, he could just be imagining it.

Leafing open the paper and beginning to scan the headlines, briefly glancing at the latest celebrity scandal and some political law which just passed, he finally found what he was looking for._ Mysterious Death Baffled Police in Dordeny, _it could just be a muggle death, but there was always a chance, at the very least it looked promising.

_Yesterday three police officers in Dordeny rushed to a scene after a disturbance was reported by the local neighbours involving gun shots. Witnesses reported hearing screams from 32 Falkner Avenue shortly after 1am as they described an explosion that occurred__ which destroyed the top floor. The family living there, the Russell's, are believed-_

"Ouch"

Slapping his hand to a sudden stinging in the side of his neck, Harry was shocked to pull out what resembled a tranquiliser dart. It was then that a sudden feeling of panic griped him, _Oh Merlin, OH MERLIN!_

Throwing it to the ground and trying to stand up, the edges of his vision was already blurring, his thought process slowing. The ground lurched dangerously and his vision started to black out.

He was unconscious before he hit the tarmac.

OoOoO

Harry groaned, his head was pounding, he had to fight to open his heavily lidded eyes. Suddenly sitting bolt upright as he remembered just what had occurred, Harry scrambled to his feet, reaching for his wand, adrenaline surging.

He wasn't dead, yet…

Falling forward as bright sunlight blinded his vision; whatever he had been sitting on wasn't a terribly stable surface. He couldn't think straight, his stomach was coiling uncomfortably. It was only when the smell of dirt reached his nose that Harry warily opened his eyes again. Scrunching his eyelids almost shut until he got used to the light.

He was in the park…having just fallen off the swing, the newspaper just a few feet away from him. Getting unsteadily to his feet, gripping the swings tightly as he waited for his sense of balance to right itself, Harry glanced around…no one was here_. I am definitely sending that letter now._

Stretching his muscles, Merlin he must have landed of his right arm badly, and both his knees felt rather bruised. Finally feeling the strength of his limbs return, the shakes and nausea decreasing, Harry shifted a few steps forward experimentally; taking deep breaths as he wearily cast a glance at the park_. I can't stay here…safety, got to get home…_

Quickly picking up the paper, scanning one last time at his surroundings, Harry left, he was not staying outside longer than he needed to. How on earth had he ended up back on the swing, what had they done? Was it Death Eaters? His thoughts were travelling a mile a minute.

Making it back to the Dursley residence in record time, Harry shot up to his room, praying silently that Hedwig would be in, she normally was during the day, especially seeing as a white owl was hardly inconspicuous.

Panting for breath he pushed the door open with more force than truly needed, finally remembering to tuck his wand away before anyone saw it…not that they'd know what it was. It _did_ look like a stick…

Nothing appeared off; his room was the same, exactly as he left it with Hedwig snoozing in the corner. What had just happened? Shaking his head and pulling open his wardrobe door to stare in the mirror, he could just make out where the dart had pierced his skin. Where was the dart anyway? He hadn't seen it when he came round, although granted it had been the least of his worries at the time. Now he had time to calm his breathing and think, he really should have picked it up, he'd need to return later and retrieve it.

It was when he was examining the small mark that Harry suddenly noticed. He could just see the markings of an injury at the top of his right shoulder…_that_ certainly hadn't been present earlier.

Pulling his enormous T-shirt off, Harry could only stop and stare dumbly at the wound in his neck. It was a bite wound, to the looks of it a dog…but was it a dog? What could cause a bite like that? It was too big to be a cat...resembled the size of wound a large dog could cause. It couldn't be could it? A werewolf bite? What else was it going to be? Maybe a neighbourhood dog came along and bit him while he was unconscious, but then why was the injury healed over. Harry forced himself to suppress a snort at that theory, it sounded _absolutely_ ridiculous even to his own ears. The wound would scar no doubt, but if it had been healed how long had he been out of it? It wasn't bleeding freely or anything, the skin had closed up, but it stung when touched, it was…peculiar. His watch said it was just after six, so either he been down and out for an hour or so, or he'd been gone whole days. It was still light outside…not like werewolves transformed during the day anyway… What else would have caused it? He lived in a quiet suburban neighbourhood! Wild animals were not exactly _commonplace!_

What in Merlins name was today's date? He wasn't–, was he? A werewolf, Harry couldn't even dwell on it; he had more than enough problems… He was just being paranoid, jumping to the worst case senario, his luck wasn't that bad! _Well, at least I hope its not, not like I have a great track record.._.

He must have spent fifteen minutes staring at the yet another mark marring his skin before jolting out of his shock.

First he needed to find out how long he'd been missing, and then he needed to check the lunar calendar (just a precaution of course)…so jump quickly onto Dudley's computer when he wasn't home. Not a difficult task, and then, _well_, depending on what had occurred, he'd have to send some very awkward letters.

Shoving his shirt back on Harry walked quietly downstairs, avoiding the living room where his Aunt and Uncle had taken up residence in front of the television. Harry silently passed into the kitchen, pulling his Uncles old paper out the bin and checking the date…12th of July…only one day had passed.

He'd been who knows where for one whole day, a day! What else had happened? Why didn't he remember a thing, had his memory been wiped or something? And why the hell, when someone had successfully managed to kidnap him, was he brought back?

Running his hand through his hair, he had to see if Dudley was home, he didn't want to have to wait…feeling his stomach drop as he slowly made it back upstairs Harry forced himself to approach Dudley's door at a calm pace.

What if he was a werewolf, what would he do? He'd be thrown out of Hogwarts no doubt, people would notice when he was ill. The students stared at him everyday; it wasn't as if his absence would go unnoticed, and how would his friends react. They knew of Remus and hadn't made a fuss, well, at least not after his lead…Hermione had sounded horrified in the shack and Ron's initial reaction hadn't been pleasant. At least Sirius would help him…

As it turned out, his dear cousin wasn't in, no doubt out with his gang. Quickly turning the machine on and shifting uneasily as it loaded itself, Harry typed into the search engine, pressing search with some trepidation.

Opening the first link and scrolling through all the months…the full moon in July was on the 18th, he was fine, safe…not infected with Lycanthropy. Allowing the feeling of pure relief to wash over him, Harry sighed, it didn't solve the problem of where'd he'd been, but it took a whole load of his mind. And tht bite...just a dog? Not bloody likely. It was the only injury he could find on himself, the _only _change. Harry resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air and scream, he was _not_ ready for another deadly adventure...normally his problems came to a head at the end of the school year. He normally had a somewhat...peaceful summer._ War, it ruins everything_.

Shutting the computer down before any of his relatives stumbled across him; Harry made his way to his room and sank gratefully onto his bed. He had letters to write, but before he could retrieve his quill Harry heard his Aunts shrill voice, Dinner was ready. At the Dursleys he ate all he could, they didn't give him enough to sustain and ten year old, and it had only gotten worse with Dudley's diet. Meals of carrots and lettuce leaves were far from appealing, but he wasn't one to be fussy.

OoOoO

The meal served to be a quiet and tense affair, but the Dursleys appeared normal, their usual selves…and surprisingly made no comment about his disappearance. Instead they berated him for his performance, apparently he'd managed to scratch his Uncles company car, and he hadn't washed the car the last day he remembered. Either it was one of his cousin's delightful lies…or someone had been impersonating him, and had done a rubbish job of it to. It wasn't as if Dudley hadn't damaged something before, Harry still remembered what happened when the T.V. broke, he wasn't even in the house and still he got the blame, he was seven when that _incident_ occured.

Harry released a frustrated groan when he made it back to his bedroom, the locks outside the door clicking shut as his uncle lumbered away up the hall. Kicking his trunk did nothing to relieve his worry; it only severed to give him some very painful toes.

At least he could contact help. Sitting himself in his old desk chair and pulling some parchment out Harry started to scratch out a note.

_Sirius,_

_I want to know where you are, where are Ron and Hermione and you staying?_

Harry froze, staring at what he'd just written, how had 'I think I was kidnapped' translate to 'I want to know where you are'? Or 'I believe I'm being followed' turn into questions about his friends whereabouts?

What was wrong with him?

Discarding the ruined piece of parchment in favour of some flimsy printing paper, he started again. Focusing all his might on writing the words 'Someone's been following me' Harry was dismayed to see the words 'summers been dull' scribbled out in front of him.

Maybe it was his quills? Harry knew it was a false hope, but he had to try…what could cause a person to do that? Searching around the room quickly before finding a pen, he touched the tip to the paper…even just the word 'help' would get Sirius's attention.

'_Sirius'_

Harry glared at the blue ink as if his murderous stare would miraculously fix the problem. Trying again while gripping his right hand tightly, forcing it to comply with his thoughts.

'_Hi'_

Unable to reign in his temper anymore Harry ripped the paper to pieces, hurling the pen against the wall.

Something had happened, but what…none of his school books mentioned anything like this. What was it…a writing block? Probably had a better name…if wizards had invented ways to overpower a persons free will with the imperius, then obviously this sort of stuff was possible…he just had to work out how to break it.

Would it stop him from speaking? Opening his mouth to say 'I've been kidnapped' Harry was shocked to feel his mouth moving without his accord, murmuring words nothing like he intended.

"I've had a long day"

It was unnerving…he couldn't even say anything…what the hell was he going to do? The situation was getting worse by the minute! He had to do something…he was safe in the Dursleys house wasn't he?

Dumbledore had said he was protected by blood wards, but how far did they reach to? What size of the local area was covered? The house had to be, that was why he'd disregarded the theory of an imposter impersonating him…they shouldn't be able to get into the house at all. But the park was a fair distance away…

Was it the real Dursleys in the house? Not some foes under polyjuice potion? He was becoming far too paranoid for a teenager…but then again, he'd never had a normal life, expect the unexpected and all that.

But what was he going to do now? He was locked in for the night. Stroking Hedwig to calm his frayed nerves Harry got ready for bed…he was exhausted, he had no energy…and he doubted he'd be able to do anything tonight at least. He couldn't concentrate…he was just too tired, too weary to deal with this just now.

OoOoO

Having completed his relatives chores again the next day, Harry trudged towards the shower. He hadn't noticed anything odd today, no unexplained noises, no quiet footsteps wondering a short distance behind him, but then again he hadn't dared stray outside the garden walls. The house _had_ to be within the wards.

Drying his hair quickly with a towel and dressing…time to see if he could find that dart. Fighting to keep a grimace of his face and throwing his cloak over himself, he would not give his shadows an easy way to catch him again.

Quietly making it to the park remaining under his cloak despite the stifling temperature, Harry stared at the tarmac underfoot. He couldn't see it off hand, but he had a rough idea of where it landed. Tracing back and forwards and around the area repeatedly…whoever hit him with it had no doubt removed it, that or someone else found it.

Shaking his head in disappointment having lost his only clue, not that he knew what he would do with it, Harry gave up his search to head home again. Carefully keeping his right arm tucked into his side, whatever gave him that bite…it hurt like hell. He'd probably had a numbing charm on it when he first awoke, because come morning even the slightest jolt sent waves of pain up his nerves.

Attempting to weed this morning was murder, but it was just as well he worked on the garden every second day, the Dursleys wouldn't notice his lack of effort.

He had to do something. Warn the people around him somehow…Harry had originally thought of showing his scar to Aunt Petunia, he'd worn a top where it was pretty obvious to see. But she hadn't said a thing, just stared at him with her usual expression of undisguised disgust. If she had been able to see it she would never have refrained from commenting…she practically jumped at every chance she had to torment him.

So he couldn't write, he couldn't talk, and no one could see his only injury. No one appeared to have noticed his absence either…it was as if it never happened. Harry was seriously debating running away…escaping whatever was happening around him. The situation was incredibly unsettling, for the first time in weeks he hadn't dreamed of the graveyard or Voldemort…just darkness.

He was hardly scared of the dark, but an invisible foe is far more dangerous than an obvious one, one where you don't realise you should run. Whatever his dreams meant they were quite simply giving him a headache, but at least it was a normal one...his scar hadn't hurt at all, even the dull continuous ache normally present was gone. A welcome relief if he _knew_ what caused the change.

He had to get into contact with wizarding Britain…he needed books, maybe he'd stumble across a friend and they'd be able to help him. But the chances of that happening when he had so few friends he trusted were slim to nothing, and the last thing he wanted was to have a run in with Death Eaters. But at least that would be a shock to Fudge, couldn't get a more incompetent Minister if you tried.

Progressing slowly back to the Dursleys as silently as possible, Harry only risked removing the cloak when he was safely back in his room. So he needed to visit Diagon Alley, get books…see if he could find someone to look him over for unwanted curses and hexes, and get some healing potions…

It wouldn't be hard to slip away…but should he come back?

A/N: There's the first part of yet another story I'm starting…I'm quite enthusiastic about writing this one…believe me, I normally don't have such long chapters, normally I struggle to reach 2000 words before posting. Review if you want people but I won't die if no one does…to be honest I hate to read them…I always imagine the worst x)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 2

Harry glanced around, shocked at the number of people present up and down the alley. No hint of a war brewing beneath the surface. Just lots and lots of happy shoppers. Why did people disregard his warning? Clearly they were all too happy to believe Fudge, content to go about there normal lives and bury theirs heads in the sand. Was the public really so easily swayed? Even if _The Prophet_ did drag his name through the dirt, it should be enough to get people curious…_worried_. At least inspire some caution into people. Apparently even that was too much to hope for.

_When the war really starts there are going to be a lot of casualties, especially if this keeps up…_

Watching the many passers by, no one was staring but he couldn't resist pulling his cap down just in case, all it took was a cap and some sunglasses and suddenly he was just a stranger. Sure he was half blind, but he could get by well enough. Why hadn't he done this with any of the other trips to the alley? Or have an adult cast a glamour on him. Sure he _shouldn't_ need to hide, but it would have saved him a headache or two, he hated the attention, and every year it got worse.

Shaking his head and continuing the long trek to Gringotts, Harry couldn't resist smiling as the huge white marble building came into view. This world had changed his life, for the better and for the worse. In the muggle world he had a relatively dull life, if he'd not been a wizard how long would it have taken to even get a room in the Dursley household? Would the blatant neglect of the Dursleys be better than the constant attacks on his life? Fame he neither wanted nor deserved?

Harry knew the answer; despite his life's hardships he'd choose the magical world over anything. Even with the war, the mess with Sirius and everything else. Harry longed to leave the Dursleys behind for good, but after much thought yesterday, he came to one conclusion. Unless he could miraculously buy a house and have it placed under the fidelius, learn to overcome the underage magic ban and mask his magical signature, he was going nowhere.

He could hardly go anywhere bar the Weasleys, and Ron had mentioned in his letters that they weren't staying at home. If the wards round the Burrow couldn't protect the red haired family, then they wouldn't be strong enough for him either.

He had to stay at the Dursleys, buy a book on wards and do some research, he needed to find out how far they extended, being confined to the house and garden would drive him mad. The throbbing wound on his arm was enough warning of what could really happen however, he'd survive…he always did in the end. He'd just have to wait it out and pray his friends came for him soon, sooner rather than later.

Quickly rushing up the steps and into the bank lobby, Harry joined one of the many queues. It wasn't too busy, not like when the school rush started, but there was no denying the place was packed. Eventually making it to the counter, Harry silently handed over his key.

The trip to his vault didn't take too long and filling his pouch with Galleon after Galleon, Harry inquired as to what the exchange rate was for the day.

"The exchange rate for Galleons to Pounds is just over five pounds each."

Nodding absentmindedly at him, ignoring his sneering tone he had grown used to with all Goblins, Harry silently estimated how much he required to change, _a new wardrobe if I have time, food, suntan lotion…_

Glancing round at the vaults contents with Galleons stacked up to the ceiling, it was the first time he realised that he had no clue as to how much gold he possessed. Even with the four years of use Harry couldn't clearly see any difference in the vaults contents…he'd barely made a dent in his finances. _I've never got a bank statement_…disregarding that thought for later, how was he to know how goblins ran banks? Harry asked "You don't by any chance know how much this vault holds do you?"

The Goblin, Riptack, glared before answering. "The Potter trust Vault contains 74,238 Galleons, 17 Sickles and 2 Knuts in total on the last review."

_The Potter trust Vault_, Harry almost asked just what he was on about before he saw the goblins expression, thinking better of it and deciding that his questions were best kept for another day Harry got back in the cart.

Exiting the bank having converted near £600 now safely tucked away in a magical wallet, Harry set out. Pockets a few hundred Galleons heavier.

First stop, Madame Malkins, unfortunately for him oversized muggle clothing was associated with Harry Potter, but it was an easy problem to fix. Flicking through the racks of premade robes he waved away the assistants aid, no point giving anyone an easy chance to recognise him. You never knew who was a Death Eater and he really didn't want to have to deal with Voldemort so soon, ending up kidnapped again…and dead…eventually. Tom would never pass up the chance to torture him.

Pondering over that fact, the last two days really had been strange. Muggle dart guns didn't exactly scream Death Eaters, in fact from all the purebloods he'd met, Harry doubted they even knew what a gun was. Ron _certainly_ didn't. If the wound hadn't somehow been healed, and his memory…tampered, Harry wouldn't have associated the attack with the magical world at all.

And the fact that he was left back at the Dursleys. It just didn't make any sense whatsoever. However, he had shopping to do, pushing the negative thoughts out his head and purchasing three casual cloaks, all black. Harry handed over a few coins and pulled on one over his current outfit. It may be boiling given the heat, but he'd cope for a few hours.

Finally stopping his frantic crowd searching as he now finally blended in sufficiently Harry settled to shop for a few hours. He couldn't stay terribly long lest his followers notice his absence, but he could get away with a few hours.

Hearing the tinkle of the bell as he shoved _"Travellers Haven" _open, it was only a few shops down but if he was buying a lot then he really should get a decent bag…he did need a new one anyway. His old bag was just a muggle one, covered in tares and split potions, broken ink and general dirt from Herbology, cleaning charms were only effective so many times, eventually something became too worn out. Browsing through the shelves and ignoring the advertisements for portkeys abroad, pop-up magical tents and whole boats, Harry eventually found the isle he was searching for. Selecting out a nice black bag at the cost of 25 Galleons, it was rather pricy, but he could use it for years. The bag had an enlargement charm on the inside, with feather-light and spell resistant protective wards already applied.

He could probable fit his whole trunk in it, Harry thought. When he'd first been to Diagon Alley with Hagrid they just bought the standard stuff, none of the fancy trunks with rooms inside or self stirring rods for potions. They worked fine…but seeing as the chances of him surviving into his twenties was slim to nothing he might as well treat himself. Besides, he lived his life out a trunk, moving from place to place, he might as well make it a nice one.

On that thought, Harry picked up the bag and started towards the shops trunk selection. It didn't take long to find the rows of trunks, making his way towards the traditional wooden ones and scanning the tags briefly, he could just make out the price and some of the fancy upgrades they had, the rest of the writing was too small.

It was probably the expression of confusion on his face that attracted the shop assistant to his side, that and the fact that the trunks probably made a fair bit of commission for every sale.

"Can I help you young man?"

Glancing up and the middle aged man wearing working robes, Harry smiled "Yeah, I've needed a new trunk for a while yet but haven't had the opportunity to acquire one until now. Do you perhaps have some show trunks which I can view? Ideally I'm searching for one containing rooms, are they available here?"

After receiving an affirmative Harry followed the assistant to a row of trunks in a back room.

"Here we are. We have ten different show trunks, from the most basic to the top of the range ones with rooms inside. I'm assuming you wish to see the furnished ones?" At Harry's nod the man continued, it was clearly a well rehearsed speech but the guy was friendly...and he had given no sign of recognising him. So far so good disguise-wise then.

"This mahogany trunk here costs 2400 Galleons, it has three rooms inside currently done up as a living room, study and bedroom. The next one over, this Oak trunk, cost a little over 4000 Galleons but it's good for your money. You get six rooms in it, there all fairly big and we've done three up to give you an impression of what they could be like. Just a study, living room and bedroom like the first. "

"The next ones the big one though, very pricey but very nice. For 12,000 Galleons you get 10 rooms, very large, large as we can get them with the current advancement of enlargement charms, all of them are done up." He patted the one at the end of the row enthusiastically before reeling off a list "One Kitchen, Dinning room, living room, study and duelling area, three bedrooms and two bathrooms."

_Ten rooms…_From one glance at Moody's trunk last year Harry knew rooms could be fitted, but to that extent was somewhat surprising, he'd already made up his mind the second he heard ten rooms. It would cost an absolute fortune, never mind his 25 Galleon school bag, this was brilliant! Making a beeline for the last one in the row Harry glanced down at it…only just realising that he had no clue how to entre.

"How do you…?"

"Get in? Its easy, hang on, it's keyed into my signature just now. Just hold on to my arm." Gripping the guys arm and watching in fascination as he pulled out his wand and tapped it twice, Harry almost yelled in shock as a portkey-like feeling took a hold of him. Glancing round frantically having found himself in a very nicely decorated hallway, _not an attack…just the trunk, only the trunk. Calm down…_

_I've gone and developed a portkey phobia…_

Mind you, the experience with the cup would do that to anyone, finally feeling his heart rate starting to slow and readjusting his cap, Harry trailed after the shop assistant, Jasper, according to the name tag.

Jasper apparently had failed to notice Harry's sudden panic, and had continued to gesture at the surrounding with gusto. "So, this is the living room, working fire although we are working on how to connect it to the floo, you could probably come in and get it upgraded once…."

Tuning out the running commentating of every feature Harry wondered around the new…flat._ How_ wizards had managed to fit this into a normal sized trunk…he should have taken Ancient Runes and Arithmancy at Hogwarts. To late now however.

After spending half an hour exploring they both exited the trunk. Harry considerably cheerier considering his previous mood, _I can definitely survive the Dursleys now_. "So, does it come with furniture or do you get that yourself…?" Harry questioned.

"This is the only one we have currently done up completely, if you want to design your own then there is a three days is the standard waiting period before its ready. We have several options available-"

Interrupting Jasper before he could start on another big spiel Harry waved away his suggestions. "No no, no, I'm happy to take this one." The option of having it specialised to suit his taste was enticing, but the three day wait could prove problematic. From what he could make out, it was very nicely fitted already, and considering what he was used to…it was complete luxury.

Briefly handing over his wand to have it keyed into him, Harry approached the till. "So one White Rasser Trunk, top of the range and a black bag…we'll give you the bag for free with this purchase." Taking the magical check and signing it, Harry grinned when it flashed gold and disappeared. That was another thing to add to his list to research, how the wizarding banking system worked…

Asking for the lady at the till to shrink his trunk Harry put it in his new black bag before placing it over his left shoulder, trying not to jostle his other arm to badly in the process. He really needed to hurry up; Harry hadn't intended to spend an hour in there, but there was no denying it was worth it. He only really had three more stops and then a mad rush into muggle London if he could manage it. That or attempt to sneak out again, couldn't be too difficult, just had to get round his relatives…and his silent kidnappers. He'd managed it today after all. His grand escape only consisted of him walking a few block under his cloak before summoning the _Knight Bus _after all.

The pharmacy wasn't difficult to find and was only a short walk up the road, quickly picking up a first aid kit, some standard pain, headache and stomach reliving potions, Harry paid and left. They would work and that's all that mattered. Uncorking a pain reliever and downing the fowl tasting brew quickly Harry sighed in relief as his throbbing arm cooled and numbed. Another problem out of the way, now he needed information, _books, if Hermione could see me now._

Flourish and Blotts was its usual self, packed with people because of some book signing on, at least the queue wasn't as bad as Lockhart's, _that_ had been terrible. Retrieving a basket quickly and wondering up and down the isles Harry picked up almost every book which caught his interest.

Among some of them were "First Aid: A Everyday Guide, Remedies and Potions, An Introduction: Gringotts, Duelling Principles, The Top 50 Spells for Aurors, Decorating: The Complete Guide to Charming a New Home, Curses and their Counters, Wards: Basics, Wards: Intermediate, Fidelius and Blood Wards, Hide and Seek: Invisibility…" Everything and anything that caught his eye was going in the basket.

Eventually having exhausted all the sections Harry stood in the queue, his stomach rumbling as the smell of food wafted in from the open doors. Dumping the basket up on the counter Harry did his best to keep a straight face at the baffled expression of the young lady behind the till, he hadn't particularly paid attention to just _how_ many books he purchased, but glancing at the ever increasing pile on the right, it was well over a hundred. Not exactly your everyday shopper then…

"That will be 323 Galleons, 12 Sickles and 3 Knuts then."

Pulling out his money pouch Harry started counting coins, eventually handing over 324 Galleons and accepting his change he proceeded to throw the books haphazardly in his bag. _Talk about holding up the queue_. He could sort them when he got back home, no doubt the Dursleys would have a fit when they realised he hadn't done his daily chores, not that it mattered in the end, he had far greater problems to worry about.

The last stop Harry had on his list was an opticians, he'd always passed by 'Glasses and Glitz' when he visited Diagon Alley, but he'd never been inside. Magical glasses were bound to be better than the muggle equivalent, plus he hadn't had his eyes checked since just after primary school started…the Dursleys certainly wouldn't pay for him to have his prescription updated. All that time his eyes could have been improved…his vision could be significantly better if he had been treated properly, but there was nothing to be done for the past, he'd just have to see what could be done now.

Entering the shop and examining the many different selections on display Harry started to look around. Well, now he knew were Moody got his eye…not that it told him why anyone in there right mind would want one, to the looks of things there were far more…natural looking ones available.

"Do you wish any help?" A voice cut across the quiet atmosphere.

Slightly caught of guard by the old woman who appeared, Harry answered "Er…yes please, I'd like to get my eyes cheeked, I haven't had my prescription updated for a while now."

"A muggleborn then? We don't need prescriptions here, don't touch the stuff! If you can afford it you'll never need a new pair at all." Hastily replacing some wire frames Harry gave the gray haired lady, Moraine according to the name badge, an inquisitive look. "Never need a prescription, but how then-"

"Self adjusting lenses, doesn't matter what your visions like, unless your blind we can get you something…and even if you are blind there are options available." Here sharp tone reminded him of McGonagall, but he needed the glasses so he wasn't going anywhere without a new pair at least.

"Have you got contact lenses…?" Harry enquired.

She just looked insulted at that question "Of course we do, now are you going to buy something or not?"

Harry throw her a wary glace, slightly unnerved by her attitude. "Er, yeah…can I get some pairs of contacts then? And are there any other features you can add?"

"You'll only need one pair sonny unless you damage them, made to last these are. The contacts cost 250 Galleons a pair, 100 Galleons for each extra feature you require. Some features require clearance before you can use them. Seeing as you clearly are not an Auror you have these options available to you." She pointed to a poster the other side of the wall. Coming closer so he could read the words Harry mused over which ones he could use. Most of them seemed useful enough.

Enhanced Long Distance Sight

Enhanced Colour (for the colour-blind)

Magical Residue

Magical Auras

Detection Enhancement

Night Sight

Underwater Visibility

Infrared Visibility

Ward Detection

Nodding his head in thought, it wasn't like Moody's eye…he wouldn't see thought walls, and he doubted he'd see through invisibility cloaks, but it might help…"I'll take all of them bar the Enhanced Colour" Harry frankly, didn't know what half of them would actually do, some of them were self explanatory, but others, _Detection Enhancement_? Maybe it would help him spot someone under the disillusionment charm.

He'd find out later, quickly collecting up the leaflets and accepting the information booklet shoved into his hands Harry silently observed as the old lady limb out. Talk about being in the wrong job. Still, once he paid and was out he would be happy.

Grinning at the flash of gold having signed another magical cheque, Merlin he wasn't half having a spending spree, Harry left the shop. He still didn't have the contacts in place, eyes were too recognisable, but he could do it when he made it back to the Dursleys. Plus he didn't exactly trust _Moraine, _no point putting himself at more risk.

Maintaining a steady pace Harry made his way through the busy street to The Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't far past noon but his short shopping trip had taken him longer than he'd anticipated. Still, he was prepared to risk an hour in muggle London, he needed supplies anyway…he _needed_ food. Quickly tapping the familiar pattern with his wand and entering the dark pub Harry made a beeline for the bathrooms. Locking a stall and pulling his wizarding robes off Harry tried to make his clothes look presentable before replacing his cap and sunglasses, stuffing the robe into his bag as he left. A few people glanced up at him as he manoeuvred in between the tables, not exactly the best time to leave, it was the lunch rush hour and as much as Harry wanted to stop for a good meal, he couldn't afford to risk exposure or his time. Thankfully if anyone did recognise him, they refrained from yelling out his identity, and Harry safely exited the magical pub.

Only after travelling several blocks into muggle London did Harry eventually slow down, it hadn't been hard to find shops, not with all the crowds, but he still worried.

_Paranoia, never a good thing to suffer from._

Purchasing some fish and chips and buying a bottle of Coke as he passed a stall by Harry sipped at the unfamiliar drink; he'd always considered it a treat to eat these sorts of food. Not exactly healthy but the calories would do him some good. _Anything to put weight on, and hopefully grow a little taller._ It took about ten minute before he eventually spotted a supermarket. It wasn't one of the big stores but it would do, foods food after all.

Harry nipped round the isles as quickly as he could, tallying the price up in his head. At least with a magical kitchen he could keep fresh fruit and vegetables for weeks, preservation charms could last for years if cast properly with the right runes, not to mention the _Charmers Freeze Storage_ _(CFS)._ Basically it was the wizarding equivalent of the muggle fridge except it blended in with the cabinets instead of a huge white machine.

Exiting with arms weighted down by almost one hundred pounds worth of food Harry walked down a deserted side alley before placing them into his bag, keeping a wary eye out for any muggles or their cameras. He'd need to get home soon so nothing defrosted. Especially in this heat.

In the end Harry only stopped at one clothing store, quickly buying three pairs of jeans, some T-shirts and shirts, along with two new pairs of shoes and some jumpers. They looked…good on him. But then again, anything would be better than Dudley's old cast offs. Changing from one thing to another hadn't been too bad either; he just had to ignore the huge scar on his shoulder…not a welcome reminder every time he looked in a mirror. At least all the new clothes covered the wound, even if his relatives were unable to see it Harry didn't wish to stare at it. His scars only ever reminded him of pain and loss.

oOoOo

Silently shuffling along the street Harry quietly edged towards number four Privet Drive, invisibility cloak hiding his presence from passersby. Everything appeared normal, but that didn't mean that everything was clear, he _knew_ better now.

Walking in through the open back door and into the cool air of the house Harry wasted no time in returning to his bedroom. Pulling the cloak off Hedwig hooted a few times at the sight of him, and Harry couldn't resist reaching out and stroking her feathers. "Waiting for me girl? I'll have a job for you soon, hopefully tonight." _Well, thats if I actually manage to write something this time._

Eventually leaving his only companion Harry dumped his bag on the bed, flipping it upside down and emptying pile upon pile of stuff across the covers. _Trunk, where is the trunk. _Harry swore when he saw the miniature box appear.

"DAMN!"

_Why'd the hel__l did I ask for it to be shrunk?_


End file.
